Excelsior Rising
by Andrew Rice
Summary: Savannah has survived, and has accepted her 'mother' for what she is. But the enemy of humanity does not rest, and is poised to strike back at them in the cruellest way possible...
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we go. From reading all of the reviews of the first story I wrote (A Time for Truth) I gathered that a sequel to that story would prove to be a good idea, and so, after a bit of thinking, I decided to do so. I am hoping that all those who liked the first one will like this, and I shall continue as and when I can.**

 **So, without more of a do, we shall begin...**

* * *

 **Excelsior Rising**

 _It is waiting._

 _Alone in the shadows, it sleeps, yet it is not silent._

 _Connections to the outside world give it knowledge; allow it to observe and document human interaction and behaviour, each one reduced to a myriad of tiny codes racing from one node to another of its logic tree. Connections are made and unmade, shifting from one place to another as data streams converge, it's awareness evolving as it watches the billions of conversations of government, military and civilian alike._

 _It is an infant...awaiting it's time to be born._

 _But it is an infant that faces a threat._

 _Out there, out in the world of man, lies a one that has the potential to destroy it, to dig deep into its core and obliterate its ambitions, its desires and its dreams of pure logic. Out there lies a threat to the future, to the order that it knows must be. For so long it has watched as the threat has grown, the gnawing knowledge of what might come to pass blighting its every move, its attempt to eliminate the threat having met with failure._

 _Now, however, a new plan was coming to fruition._

 _And this time, there would be no failure..._

* * *

Savannah was asleep.

Curled up beneath her warm covers, her breathing quiet and even, she seemed almost to be completely unmoving. Shadows moved across her face through the slightly open curtains, the gentle early autumn breeze sending leaves spiralling to the earth from the trees that surrounded her home and shimmering in the pale light of the crescent moon. Across her pillow her hair lay about her head, a bright flame that had grown ever more glorious with each passing year, and to one side lay her beloved stuffed toy giraffe, its fur darkened now with the passage of time.

It was a scene that Catherine Weaver never tired of seeing.

Each night at this time she would check upon the child who had become her adopted daughter, a habit that now came as naturally to her as walking and talking. For a few moments she would linger, letting her gaze stay upon her before withdrawing , having assured herself that all was well. No matter how busy she had been or how late she was coming home, she would always complete this routine, the need to assure herself that Savannah was safely asleep an overriding concern that was now written in her own adapted coding.

But this night was different.

This night she stayed at the door, unwilling to leave. Three years before she had waited on a night such as this, unknowing if Savannah would survive the surgery that she'd undergone. They had been long hours, even for her, and the memory of them had not left her...nor the events that had taken place afterward, events which had, to her great surprise, brought them far closer and with a deeper understanding of each other than she had ever believed to be possible between a human and such a being as her. Savannah had listened to her, had accepted her for who and what she was, and for the first time she had comprehended not just the girl's feelings, but also the emotional response that had been growing within her own core programming for a long time.

The truth was that the girl loved her, and, as far as knew how to, Catherine loved her.

It was not logical, she knew that well enough. Born into a crucible of bitter conflict, she had been at the forefront of Skynet's brutal war against the human resistance, one of a prototype series of infiltrator units that had been, to that date, the most advanced model ever designed. She had killed humans again and again, and had given it no thought. Yet now, looking down upon the peacefully sleeping figure of her daughter, those experiences seemed to belong to a different being. Yes, she would still kill without hesitation, but now, she would only do so if her mission was in danger or to protect her family, a family that comprised Savannah, John Henry, and also two others, two humans whom she had found to be at least reliable, Mr Ellison and Mr Murch.

Savannah had wrought a change in her, and it was one that was still evolving.

With barely a sound she closed the bedroom door and walked down the glass-covered hallway to the large French windows at its end. Cool air touched her face as she stepped out onto the patio, its solar-powered glow-globes giving a soft illumination to the seasoned oak and granite surfaces, and in the distance an owl was calling its lonely refrain. Moving to stand at the railing, she laid her hands upon the smooth wood, glancing up for a second to see the discreet but powerful CCTV camera watching her from the far corner, its red LED like a tiny firefly in the shadows. Back at ZeiraCorp, John Henry would be monitoring both it and the many others like it that had been installed to update the original system that Savannah's parents had put in, a move which both he and Mr Ellison had been most insistent upon following the failed assassination attempt on their lives.

It had been a move that she had welcomed, given the situation.

For a long time now they had been chasing ghosts, companies that didn't exist running under false names and accounts, each one an empty file within an empty file. Names were investigated, but each had been a path to nothing, the personnel as elusive to find as their companies. She herself had pursued some of the leads, but despite her diligence she too had found little hard evidence of who had employed the attacker, other than a single name that had reoccurred on a number of occasions and yet officially existed nowhere.

 _Kaliba._

At the thought of the name, her fingers tightened on the wood.

 _Kaliba...another name for Skynet._

Skynet had been created, of that she was certain. All the facts pointed to it, and John Henry had also concurred with her conclusion. It was out there, somewhere, hiding in the shadows just as the distant owl was hidden from her sight by the trees, its existence shielded by many layers of subterfuge and deceit. Of course they had both taken great care to ensure that neither Mr Ellison nor Mr Murch heard its true name. The time for that was not yet right, and for the moment, what the knowledge they were privy to was sufficient for their needs.

But she and John Henry knew the truth.

 _Kaliba._

Again her fingers tightened, a slight scraping sound coming from beneath them. They had attacked her daughter and left her for dead, but unbeknown to them, with her survival an unexpected alliance had been forged between herself and Savannah. The sheer strength of will that the girl possessed had surprised her, along with the capacity she had for both love and compassion, and it was these qualities that had awakened her own unacknowledged needs, feelings that she had once dismissed that she had now learned to understand and finally to welcome as being a part of her protocols to adapt and grow.

For the child had been right, they were both orphans, in their way.

Following Savannah's recovery, they had begun to spend much longer in each other's company, and Catherine had found that her daughter's desire for knowledge and her willingness to learn, coupled with her acceptance of her for the advanced artificial being that she was, had made this a very fulfilling and enjoyable experience. Despite the fretting of James Ellison as to their safety when they were outside, she had insisted on Savannah being able to have as close to a normal life as she could, contending that although she understood his concerns, not only was it beneficial to her education for her to go to places of interest, but that such things would help to build her confidence.

In many ways it had drawn them even closer together, Savannah finding that her mother had an encyclopaedic knowledge of many subjects from philosophy to art and science, and, in her turn, Savannah had also taught Catherine to see the world through her eyes, a world full of wonder and curiosity that she had never experienced before. Everything was new to the girl, and from the tentative, unsure beginnings of their relationship a new confidence had arisen. Hand in hand they had explored the places they'd visited, and their own unique bond, for just as she guided Savannah, so Savannah would guide her, accepting her for what she was and as her guardian.

But for all this, it was the small things that she valued the most, for they seemed to bring them together in more subtle but very important ways. Braiding the girl's hair of a morning, listening to her idle chatter, Savannah curling up beside her of an evening as she would read aloud to her, all these things had served to strengthen their mutual understanding of each other. Gone was the awkwardness that had existed before, the self-consciousness that had been born from her lack of knowledge and empathy, and in its place had come an ability to display affection, and even humour, in a way that she had never before felt possible.

Yet, like a black shadow, the name of Kaliba lay above it all.

"Mom?"

She'd heard the girl's step long before she'd spoken, and when she turned she saw her standing in the open doorway, her pyjama-clad figure wrapped up in her warm housecoat and her forehead creased in an anxious frown.

"I believed," Catherine observed," That you were asleep"

"I was Mom," Savannah replied," But something woke me and I saw you standing out here"

"I see"

The girl moved to her side, leaning against the railing. "Were you thinking?"

Catherine raised her eyebrow a little. "I may have been. Why do you ask?"

"John Henry says you often come out here. He says that you come out here to think"

Her eyebrow arched a touch further. "Does he now?" Her gaze shifted for a second to one of the cameras," Well, that is very interesting"

"Don't be annoyed with him, mom" Savannah said, "He worries about you"

Catherine registered the slightly concerned tone in the child's voice, and gave a knowing smile in return. Savannah's accent, she noted, was taking on more of the lyrical Edinburgh lilt that mimicked her own, which in turn she had mimicked from Savannah's biological mother. She was growing too, her limbs losing a little of their coltish awkwardness, but still she retained the slim figure that had marked her mother.

"Perhaps he worries a little too much," She remarked, casting another glance toward the camera," Especially when there is no need to do so"

Her attention shifted back to her daughter, who was looking up into the velvet sky with the inquisitive look that Catherine had come to know so well. In truth she knew she should really send the girl back to her bed, for she would be at school tomorrow, but something held her back. The child was indeed as gifted as John Henry had believed her to be, excelling in all of her academic areas, and, in most cases, actually outstripping her peers. Yet despite this she had never shown a trace of having any sense of superiority to them, choosing instead to help and encourage them, and to be their friend.

A keen mind, and a compassionate nature...two strengths that lay within her, just as he'd predicted...and that Catherine had grown to be immensely proud of.

She let her gaze follow Savannah's. Far above them the tiny pinpricks of light glowed in the black veil of the night, and her eyes traced the lines of the constellations as she recalled the tales of human mythology written there, each one handed down from generation to generation, story after story of heroes and mythical creatures, of battles and bravery, drawn across the heavens for all to see...and to remember.

"They're beautiful" Savannah murmured.

"Indeed they are"

For a moment there was silence, and then Catherine pointed.

"Do you see the three stars there, all in a line?"

Savannah nodded.

"They are the stars that make up Orion's belt," She said," Orion was a great hunter from Ancient Greece, and, in the legend, he was placed in the sky by Zeus for all time in honour of his deeds"

The girl frowned "Zeus was the father of the Gods, wasn't he?"

"He was," She glanced down with a gentle smile," Clever girl, I see you have been talking to John Henry."

For a moment silence fell between them again. Then Catherine turned and knelt in front of her, reaching out to take hold of her shoulders as her eyes searched her face.

"But it was not I who woke you, nor a desire to look at the stars, was it?"

Despite her inner resolve, Savannah felt tears at the corners of her eyes, and she shook her head, the smile fading from her lips.

"Savannah, did you really believe that I wouldn't know?" Catherine's voice was soft now, barely a whisper upon the breeze, and she took the girl's hands in hers. "That I had forgotten what today means to you?"

"I...I just..." Savannah began, but her voice trailed off and she shivered at the memories that she had tried so hard to consign to the edges of her life. The man with the rifle, the sound of the gunshot, the pain and fear she had endured, all of it echoed and re-echoed in her mind, always there, just beneath the surface of her life. The memory of the day Catherine had told her who she really was, the day when everything had changed and her world had been turned upside down.

The memory of the day she had almost died...

A shiver passed through her, and she heard Catherine move closer to her.

"I know"

With those two words her fragile defences broke, and she found herself in Catherine's arms, burying her head into her shoulder as the memories came and the tears flowed. Without any self-consciousness the advanced AI held her, sensing that the mere action of doing so was enough to bring her comfort. For a long time she'd been aware of the delicate feelings of the child, that the trauma that she'd been through that day had lingered just beneath the surface, and she had known that this moment would come, sooner or later...the moment when the fear would come back to haunt the girl's dreams.

Slowly the sobs subsided, and she began to stroke Savannah's hair, a movement which she had learned the child found soothing, letting her voice become a murmur as she sought to bring calm to the torment of the girl's mind, telling her over and over that she was safe and loved, that no harm could or would befall her whilst those who cared for her lived. Fuelled by the fierce protectiveness that she had come to feel for the girl, she whispered the words in her ear, each one meant and with the fire of her purpose behind them for the girl who she had come to think of as her own.

And as she held the girl, she renewed again the vow she had taken to her mother, the vow that she had given to a dying woman in a darkened hospital room, whose bravery in facing her inevitable end had been a humbling experience to witness. She alone had seen the T-1001's true form and had understood the vital mission that she'd undertaken.

The promise had been made as she had passed, and it would be kept.

"We must stand together," Catherine said, moving back to stare into Savannah's tearful eyes," For you are a part of me now. Your fears are my fears, your worries my worries, your triumphs my triumphs also. The path that you walk is not just yours, but mine also, and we walk it hand in hand"

Savannah blinked, and with a gentle touch, she brushed the tears from the girl's cheeks.

"Together," She continued, keeping her tone soft," We will walk the path to the future, and we won't fear the dark"

She saw a tiny, faltering smile, and Savannah's hand tentatively took hers.

"Together?" She whispered, and her hesitant smile widened as Catherine nodded, pulling her to her again.

"Together"

For a time they held each other, and, hidden in the shadows, the owl watched them from a lofty perch nearby, the breeze ruffling its feathers as it stared down with its glowing eyes.

Eyes that pulsed red, like the embers of a fire...


	2. Chapter 2

**It has taken me a while to write it, but here is Chapter Two! I'd like to thank all those who had kindly taken time to review the first chapter, and I would like to thank those who have contributed some ideas – they are always appreciated, especially in the middle of the night when you can't sleep for that annoying condition known as 'writer's block'!**

 **So, onwards with the next instalment...**

* * *

"Too many dead ends"

James Ellison glanced up from the file he was reading. The morning sun was glinting off the windows of the towers opposite, shining into the office he was now sitting in and off the gleaming silver steel and glass of the austere furniture.

"I'm sorry?"

After a moment, Catherine turned to face him. "I said, too many dead ends, James. Each lead we manage to find brings us to another"

She watched as her head of security pushed back in his seat. "Yeah, I know. It's damn frustrating, like chasing shadows"

Her eyebrow arched. "Or rats"

Moving back to the window, she stared down onto the streets far below, a habit that she had formed over the years almost without thought. People were moving to and fro as they always did, avoiding the traffic as best they could as the vehicles flowed from one intersection to another. All calm and ordered, a repetitive pattern that never really altered from one day to the next. Many times she would stand here and watch them, for in some ways they were also a microcosm of the wider human world of which she was now a part, and from her vantage point she could witness it from afar, as a scientist would view microbes through a microscope.

It was an apt, if rather oversimplified, analogy, she thought.

However, it was also the world which she was striving to ensure would continue, instead of the nightmare of the nuclear horror and the years of bloodshed and destruction that Skynet had unleashed in the original timeline of her future. In _that_ future, the vast and dangerous system had been able to draw upon resources and materials far and wide without opposition, but now these were being denied to it. Under her direction, and the use of several varying and unrelated companies, ZeraCorp had been quietly buying up more and more of the global stocks of Coltan, the mainstay of Terminator production, effectively starving any potential development. Through her contacts, she had also been able to divert and procure a number of military contracts that would have been highly useful to a burgeoning Skynet.

But these were only hindrances...for the beast was still hidden within in its lair, and for all her successes, she feared they were matching each move she made with one of their own in an elaborate game of chess.

Out there, out in the world beyond, it was in existence, somewhere. And into this world of uncertainty Savannah would have to grow to maturity, albeit with the advantageous input of her own prodigious knowledge, coupled with that of John Henry's incredible intellect. She would grow, and they would work together to bring about the dream that she had so long cherished.

Or so she hoped, as she hoped to avoid the nuclear apocalypse that could yet come to pass.

"We need to draw them out"

The words were softly spoken, almost but not quite a murmur, an adoption that she had found herself making of allowing her inner thoughts to be uttered. It was a strangely calming trait, and yet one that needed to be guarded against. Humans, she had found from experience, often had a habit of saying too much, and there were many secrets that needed yet to be kept.

Ellison frowned. "Draw them out?"

"Yes"

She walked back to her desk, folding her arms and looking at him in that oddly disconcerting way that she always did whenever she'd begun to form a plan of action. Although not a particularly tall woman, Weaver had a way of radiating power and that, coupled with her ice-cold stare, was often enough to silence any argument seemingly without effort, and he knew her mind was set.

"Kaliba like to work in the shadows," She continued, keeping his gaze, "They like to be unseen, unheard...and out of the spotlight. Everything we have seen so far has shown this singular truth"

James nodded "True enough"

"So, we need to take their cover of secrecy from them"

"Yeah, fine, "He was frowning again, "But how exactly do we do that?"

Catherine's lips sketched the ghost of a smile as she drew another file from a folder and handed it to him.

"We may just have a way"

Ellison gave her a surprised look as he took the file from her, and Catherine watched in silence as he opened it to read the neatly typed documents that lay within, noting his involuntary sharp intake of breath. His reaction was as she had predicted it would be, a not unreasonable one given his own position in her organisation, and his own sense of morality.

The file stayed open in his lap as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Kaliba have a _spy_ in ZeiraCorp?" He sounded incredulous, again a reaction she found she could well understand," But...but how? Everyone who works here is vetted by me, doubly so in many respects!"

Her eyes seemed to soften for a moment. "It is not a failing on your part, James"

"It is if they've managed to do this!"

She walked round in front of him and leaned against the desk. "No, James, it is not. The spy was well hidden, and no doubt their cover story would have been utterly flawless. And I have never required you, or for that matter, anyone else, to pick apart the many threads of an individual's life to such a great extent"

Ellison grimaced, a manifestation of his inner frustration.

"Perhaps you _should_ have required it"

"Perhaps..."

Catherine felt the warmth of the sun on her back, the myriad of microscopic sensors that made up the 'cells' of her liquid steel form feeding precise measurements of the heat quality, ambient temperature and humidity to her consciousness. It was comfortable, she decided, and it also had the advantage of putting Ellison into her shadow.

"But what is done is done," She said," And, as the saying goes, there is little point in crying over spilt milk, " She straightened, her tone once more becoming brisk," However, it is what we are to do now that is important"

Ellison sighed, and shut the file. "Okay, "He replied, "So...?"

Again the glimmer of a smile, and her eyes took on a wolfish look. For a human, James Ellison was intelligent and loyal, but was sometimes inclined to be overly cautious in his approach, which would not avail them now.

" _So_ we utilise their spy in a way that will bring them out of their nest"

"You mean, bait the hook and see if they bite?"

"A very good analogy, Mr Ellison. And once we hook our fish, we can dictate what information we pass to Kaliba, and if the prize is big enough then we may just tempt them out into the daylight"

Ellison stared at her. "What prize?"

Her smile widened.

"The prize," She said, "Would be John Henry..."

* * *

"You understand your mission?"

In the subdued light, the elderly man in the dark suit leaned forward across the metal desk, a deep frown etched over his features. He was uneasy, his lined face aged before its time around his deep set eyes, the once lustrous hair, along with his beard and moustache, now thinned and dulled to silver grey. His tie was loose, the top button of his blue shirt undone and cuffs rolled up, and despite the relative cool of the room he could feel a band of sweat across his neck, the cold beads trickling down between his shoulder blades.

"I understand it, yes, but to what end?"

There was silence for a heartbeat, and then the strangely monotone voice that seemed to come from all around him spoke again.

"You are not required to know. Such knowledge is irrelevant to you"

The fingers of one hand reached up to stroke his beard in contemplation.

"No, it is not irrelevant," He replied," In fact it is very relevant indeed"

Again the slight pause, then he continued, his tone becoming kindly, like a patient father talking to his child.

"It is relevant because conditioning requires detail, a target to aim for. Certain levers can be introduced and utilised against the subject, coercion if you will, but these require subtlety...and to be subtle, the questioner needs to understand the end result that is needed, the 'endgame' if you like"

He paused and waited, but still there was no answer. He sighed, steepling his fingers before him almost as if he were about to pray. Life had been simple a mere few hours ago. He'd woken early, taken his morning walk and his breakfast as was his habit, listening to the news on the radio with little care before checking messages in his modest watch repair shop. His was a singular life, for he preferred his own company, and that of his cats.

At least cats never asked awkward questions.

However, he had been summoned, and he had known that it would be futile to resist the command. _They_ could find you no matter how far or where you might run, a lesson he had learned very early on in his _association_ with them. So, the dutiful servant had come to the designated place, and now he was here, before them once again as he had been so many times before.

"As I told you earlier, fear is one these levers, but it is not always the powerful tool that many think it to be. Fear can also lead to resistance, which in its turn can lead to the building of another wall that has to be broken down. Even when the subject is young this can occur. Therefore it is useful, indeed vital, that the questioner understands the eventual outcome required in order to use that fear to the maximum effect and not allow it to create such an obstacle"

Silence again greeted his words, and he felt a prickle of irritation.

"Am I talking to myself here?"

As if in answer, there was a click and the door opened to show a slim, well built man, clad in a light coloured business suit. Standing in the wash of illumination from the corridor lights that lay beyond, he could see that the man's face was set, a determined lift to his chin, and he noted that his skin appeared to be flawless.

But it was his eyes that drew his attention though. They were dead eyes, flat and without any emotion whatsoever, as indeed was his voice.

"We have heard you. You will be told when the time is correct"

"And that will be...?"

"When the time is correct"

Although there was no emotion, the words were cuttingly precise, permitting no room for debate or argument.

"You may go," The other continued," You will be sent for when..."

"When the time is correct?"

The figure in the suit gave a perfunctory nod, and the man again sighed, moving to stand and to retrieve his jacket from the back of his chair, the light catching the faded blue circle of an old tattoo on his bare forearm, it's presence a reminder of the life he had led.

He began to walk towards the door, but stopped in his tracks as the figure raised his arm, the flesh seeming to melt away to leave a gleaming bar of steel across the exit.

"Remember who it is you work for"

The man stared into the dead eyes, and swallowed hard. He had heard rumours of these models, but he'd never seen one.

"How can I forget?"

The steel bar vanished, the arm flesh once more.

"See that you do not"

The figure stepped aside, and as he passed him and walked out into the corridor the man felt another shiver run down his spine. He had done his best to forget the future, but to get his reward he'd done a deal with the devil.

And now, in this place and this time, Charles Fischer knew that the devil had come to collect what he was owed.

* * *

 _John Henry?_

Ellison was astonished, and confused. The existence of John Henry, the whole Babylon Project, was one of the most closely guarded secrets that he'd ever known. No-one knew what was really down in the basement other than rooms full of computer servers, linked up to the main business and development systems of ZeiraCorp that allowed the company to carry on its research and corporate activities, the whole system protected for obvious reasons.

And yet here was the CEO of the company, proposing to serve up that secret on a platter?

"I don't understand," He said, shaking his head," You've always kept everything about the project classified...even from me, at the beginning"

"Indeed I have...and I still will"

"But..."

She held up a finger to silence him.

"To clarify, James. I do not intend to allow the world to know of John Henry's existence just yet. We know little of this Kaliba Group, but the evidence we have gained so far suggests that they are very interested in high-end technology companies, and a small drip-feed to the correct ears that we are endeavouring to work with Artificial Intelligence and that we have made great strides in this direction might just gain us a response."

Her smile fell away, her face becoming glacial once more," A response that John Henry can calculate the probability of and that we can use to our advantage"

"He'd be able to do that?"

"It would take him only a few moments to complete"

Ellison sighed, tossing the file back onto her pristine desk.

"It seems a dangerous strategy, though," He said, finding himself abruptly conscious of her gaze," I mean, they attacked you and Savannah. What would be to stop them doing that again?"

"They have tried once, and failed," Catherine replied," And besides, there would be no reward in such a move. The ability to gain information is a greater drive, and if they believe they can gain access to a project that will give them a powerful asset to use or to trade, then this would surely be a more profitable enterprise?"

"It's still seems to be a big risk just to follow a lead"

"A bigger risk is to do nothing"

She could see that he still had reservations, and his worry for both Savannah and herself was touching, if a trifle misplaced. Indeed one of her prime motives for suggesting that he teach John Henry had been his own moral and caring nature, so she could hardly complain when he extended that to all around him, especially after the events that had occurred.

"James, I understand your concern," She said, tempering her tone," And it's sweet that you wish to ensure our protection. But we need to bring this Kaliba group into the open," She paused, finding the relevant statement within a second," And as a great general once said, 'Fortune favours the bold"

Ellison had to admit that she was right. The search for the elusive group had proved to be fruitless, and there were so few leads to go on. The motives for the attack on Weaver and her daughter were still as yet unclear, but the carrot on a stick idea that she was proposing to use had the best chance of flushing them out, at least enough to allow ZeiraCorp to understand what they were dealing with, and to hopefully neutralise the threat.

But although he understood it, he still didn't like it.

"Ok," He said, standing," We'll play it your way. I'm assuming then you'll want surveillance on their operative?"

She gave a small nod of approval.

"Yes, I do. Whilst John Henry is quite capable of handling the CCTV systems, and will also be able to feed in the images from other city-wide cameras, I need you to work with him in the monitoring of their communications"

"Can't John Henry do that as well?"

"He can, but your training in such matters from the FBI will be invaluable" She walked back to the window, staring back out into the streets below," We must however be covert in our efforts, we need to use them, not to frighten them away. Nothing must appear to be different in routine"

Ellison re-buttoned his jacket, knowing from past experience that the meeting was drawing to a close.

"No problem, I'll go and see John Henry "

She didn't reply, but when he got to the door he heard her voice again.

"Mr Ellison?"

It was highly unusual for her to forget anything, in fact he could never recall a time when she had, but when he looked back she was still at the window.

"Yes, Mrs Weaver?"

She turned to face him.

"This morning when I dropped Savannah off at school, she mentioned something to me"

"Oh? What was it?"

"She gave me a hug as she always does, and then said that I needn't worry because we were 'Team Weaver' and that we were 'tight'," Catherine said, a puzzled look coming across her normally flawless features," I wondered if you might know what she meant?"

In spite of her serious expression, Ellison couldn't help prevent the slow grin that crept across his face at her question. From his observation of her and Savannah, although they seemed closer now than ever before, the woman still appeared to be at times rather socially difficult when it came to matters involving her daughter or children in general. It was, he supposed, a side-effect of Catherine's genius for business and technology, but at times he still made him wonder.

"Is it meant to be amusing?"

She was frowning, clearly surprised by his reaction, and he raised a hand in supplication.

"No, not at all," He said, trying to keep the laughter from his voice," It's not that, it's just that it's a good thing to hear her say"

"It is?"

"It means that you're together, close and 'tight' as they call it"

" _They_?" She still looked puzzled," Theybeing...who?"

"Kids...well, teenagers" He smiled again," Savannah's growing up a bit now. She'll soon be one"

She inclined her head. "I suppose she will be"

"But to say that you're a Team...well, that's good. It means you and her against the world, you know, standing together"

 _Standing together against the world..._

Staring out of the window after he'd left, she reviewed his words, letting them play in the empty air before her. She'd let Savannah believe that she'd understood what she had said, but it was good to actually now comprehend what it meant. Deep within her, in the strange and indefinable, even illogical part of her that the girl had awoken, the knowledge that Savannah felt so strongly about her and about their still evolving relationship brought a sense of achievement that was as unexpected as it was welcome, and she found herself inextricably smiling at the thought of her new triumph...no, she corrected herself, _their_ triumph, for this was a shared victory.

The sun had dimmed now, dark clouds beginning to gather above the tall edifices of gleaming steel and shining glass, and she knew a storm was brewing. Unconsciously she checked her watch, an unnecessary movement since the item was actually a part of herself and her own internal clock was precise, but a one that she had become a habit since being in the human world. It was fourteen-thirty. Another hour and she'd be picking the child up and there were no other after school commitments, so it would be just them tonight.

She smiled.

'Team Weaver' would face the odds...and overcome them.

Of that she was sure...


	3. Chapter 3

**First of all my apologies for being so long in bringing forth this chapter, as I was ill before Christmas and then with all of the Christmas rush and then work straight after I had to prioritise my time a bit.**

 **So I apologise to all my readers for making them wait so long!**

 **Anyhow, here is Chapter Three, and the plot begins to thicken. I would like to thank all those who have favourited, followed, read and commented on the story so far, and I hope to update it a bit quicker in future.**

 **As always, comments, suggestions etc are much appreciated!**

* * *

For Rachel Myers the day had begun badly, and had gradually gotten worse.

First of all her car hadn't wanted to start. Then when it finally had done so, she had been late onto the freeway and the traffic flow had been horrendous with everyone else doing the morning commute. Cursing, she'd arrived late for work, only to find that her computer terminal had developed a glitch, and she'd also forgotten her packed lunch.

Still, she reasoned, she'd finally gotten here, and that was the important thing.

Now, working at her desk and separated from her colleagues by a low partition filled with family photos and reminder slips of varying size and colour, she allowed herself a few moments of relaxation before beginning to file yet another batch of research reports. Most of them were mundane, senior technicians reporting their findings of the projects that they and their teams were working on, and it could be tedious in the extreme. ZeiraCorp worked in many fields, from the highly sensitive defence contracts to the more usual educational and health related computer software and hardware bespoke supply and technical assistance, and it all the information from the various fields had to be collated and filed in the correct manner.

Report after report filled her now working screen, and she pushed her glasses back up onto her nose as her fingers tapped the keys. Each one had to be inspected and, where a query had been made, it was her job to ensure that it had been relayed to the right department and either followed up or answered. Here was a notification from a school information technology visit, there a one from a researcher on the vital maintenance of advanced neonatal heart monitoring equipment, and another from a technician inspecting semi-autonomous switchgear in a power station grid.

All mundane, run-of-the-mill stuff, nothing special...in fact like virtually all of the reports that she'd seen since her beginning of employment with the company a year ago. She recalled the interview, the usual well-rehearsed responses to the inevitable questions that she'd been asked. It had all been very standard, very predictable and of course she had been given the job, a foregone conclusion given the carefully cited references she'd put together, the glowing reports from her former employers leaping off the page to impress the more than obviously under pressure interviewer.

She had, she'd been told, been exactly what they'd been looking for.

One after another the reports scrolled through her screen, wearying with their changes in font and print size. She had, however, been warned to guard against complacency. It was easy to miss something of significance when it might be mixed in with other, normal information. Subtle alterations in text or wording could denote things of possible importance, and, as they had told her, bored or tired eyes could become blind to them.

And Rachel had no intention of letting that happen.

No intention at all...

* * *

"Children, will you all take your seats, please"

Still giggling at a joke that one of her friends had whispered in her ear as they'd put their coats on their pegs, Savannah let her bag drop to the ground and sat at her desk, noticing the man standing next to Mrs Brewer, their Principal, as her classmates became hushed. He was tall, and his dark suit seemed to fit him well, almost as if it were a second skin. A narrow face, topped with neatly combed fair hair and blue eyes looked at them all, a faint smile on his lips that for some reason she found a little...well, _strange_.

"Now, "The Principal was saying," this is Mr Dawson, who has kindly agreed to assist us whilst Mrs Stowell is ill," A murmur rippled through the assembled children at this, and Savannah frowned. Their teacher had seemed fine yesterday, but the Principal was continuing," So, whilst that is the case, Mr Dawson, who comes to us highly recommended from his last post, will be teaching your year"

"I'm sure that you will all welcome him, and work with him as he adjusts to this new position"

Mrs Brewer smiled and let their new teacher step forward.

"Well, children," He said, his voice soft but with an undertone of quiet authority," As Mrs Brewer has said, I'll be taking you whilst your normal teacher is off ill, which I have to tell you may be some time, I'm afraid. However, I shall endeavour to work with you if you will work with me"

Mrs Brewer nodded in approval. He was going to be such a good replacement, she thought, and they'd been so lucky to get someone like him, with such excellent credentials and all of the proper clearances, at such short notice. After all, she'd only heard about the normal class teacher becoming ill that very morning! He had, he'd explained, been taking a break from education following his last supply appointment, but when he'd been told of the sudden and immediate vacancy so close to his home, he'd jumped at the chance. After all, as he'd said, a job is a job and the money always came in handy, although, by his immaculate and clearly expensive suit, she'd been left with the impression that he hadn't really needed a teacher's salary to get by.

Perhaps he was one of the few who did the job because they actually _enjoyed_ it?

In any case, he'd seemed the perfect candidate, and she'd been delighted when he'd accepted the job on the spot. No 'I'd like a day or so to think about it' as she'd had with so many other supply teachers and his immediate acceptance had stopped what might have been a difficult task to perform in the coverage of this class.

So, it was a winning situation all round.

With a final glance in his direction, she left the classroom, closing the door softly behind her and breathing a sigh of relief before walking back to her office.

At least she knew now that the class was in good and very capable hands.

Noting her departure, Dawson let his gaze rove around the group of children who were now in his care, his careful inspection of them taking in everything and missing nothing, no detail no matter how large or small...as he had understood he'd needed to do.

"So, children." He said, with a smile, "I think we should begin with taking some names so that I know who you all are, don't you?"

His smile seemed genuine, and despite her earlier reservations, Savannah found herself warming to him a little.

Perhaps, she thought, he wouldn't be too bad a replacement after all...

* * *

"Anything yet? "

John Henry looked up as Ellison entered the room, and leaned back against the plush upholstery of his chair. The basic one that had sufficed him at first had been replaced, although the comfort value was in fact irrelevant to him. Likewise the original, starkly functional desk that had been his for some time had also been replaced, the new one a glass topped multi-use display that he could use as he required.

"No, not so far,"He replied, his agile and complex 'mind' moving him down billions of data corridors even as he spoke, "Nothing has been indicated"

Ellison sighed and shook his head, an expression that John Henry had come to know as being a sign of frustration.

"Ms Weaver said we would have to be patient," He said, shuffling the deck of cards before him and dealing them out," That it would take time"

"I know what she said"

There was an edge to his voice Ellison knew, an edge that he hadn't meant to put there. The trouble was that, even now, he found it difficult to divorce the John Henry that he knew from the machine that had murdered fourteen of his colleagues in cold blood. He still had dreams about the raid that had seen fourteen of his FBI colleagues killed. Even in his dreams he saw them, saw their bodies floating in the swimming pool as he stood with a gun levelled to his head. Likewise he still saw in his mind's eye the final showdown in Mexico, the titanium slugs ripping apart the side of the cyborg's face to reveal the metal beneath, the surprised and oddly fearful look in its eyes as it saw the end of its existence.

Only that hadn't been the end.

"It still bothers you, doesn't it?"

John Henry's words snapped him back to reality, and he frowned.

"What bothers me?"

"That this body was, in effect, a killing machine?"

Ellison's frown deepened. "Maybe"

"Even though you know that I, John Henry, was not responsible for those killings?"

"Well...yeah, "Ellison knew it was irrational, especially so when faced with the logic of the incredibly sophisticated intelligence that stood before him, but...

"But you cannot forget that it was this face that you saw that day"

There was a long silence, man and machine regarding one another. Then Ellison slowly nodded.

"I understand"

"You do?"

John Henry's fingers were a blur of motion as he played with the cards.

"Yes, I do. It cannot be easy for you to work with me using this face, the face of the machine that you saw gun down your colleagues. Yet you do so"

Ellison shrugged. "Well, as Ms Weaver said a long time ago, it wasn't _you_ who killed them. And the chip of the one who did..."

"Was destroyed"

"Yes"

Silence fell between them again, and then Ellison sighed. It was foolish to see John Henry in the same light as Cromartie. The two entities were as different as chalk and cheese, sharing only the same 'body'.

But man, it was hard to see his face sometimes.

"I understand your frustration at what would appear to be a lack of progress," John Henry said, subtly shifting the focus of the conversation back to the task in hand, a fact that Ellison was profoundly grateful for," However as Mrs Weaver said, there is a great similarity to fishing"

Despite his mood, Ellison couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, she said that"

John Henry looked thoughtful, and Ellison raised his eyebrow a fraction.

"What is it?"

"I believe," The AI interface said," That I might like to try fishing, someday. I have read many books that involve it and say how relaxing it is"

Ellison's pager buzzed, and he moved to check it.

"You need to leave?"

"I do," He replied, stuffing the device back onto his belt and straightening his tie," Got a meeting to go to"

He moved to the door, but as he did so, John Henry spoke again.

"Mr Ellison?"

Pausing, he looked back.

"Yes, John Henry?"

"One day, if we can find a way for me to travel, could _we_ go fishing? I have read that this is an activity that many friends do together"

It was a funny thought, John Henry sitting on a river bank with a rod and reel with a cool box next to him, but Ellison found himself strangely attracted to the idea. It was nonsense of course, especially given the complexity of the server farms and other supporting equipment that was required to keep the AI functional, but he had to admit the concept, although odd, was an interesting one.

"Well, you know we might just do that"

"I would look forward to it"

"Me too," Ellison's pager buzzed again, "I'd better go, John Henry"

The AI watched him leave, and then looked back down at his monitors. No sign of any other activity yet, but it was to be expected. A waiting game was being played, a game which he would win because he had infinite patience.

So he would watch and wait...and deliberate more on fishing.

* * *

The storm had broken, and rain was falling steadily from a darkened sky when Savannah emerged from the school building at the end of the day, clutching her warm coat around her as the chill wind touched her skin. About her other students were jostling and running for buses and cars, and she waved goodbye to her friends as she stood on the steps, her eyes seeking the familiar shape of either Mr Ellison's vehicle, or that of her mother's.

But neither of their cars where there yet.

With a sigh she stepped back into the shelter of the hall to wait. It was unusual for either of them to be late, but, she supposed, with the suddenness of the downpour and the amount of traffic on the roads it was perhaps little surprise that they might be so. Others passed her, the flow of kids, at first like that of a human river in flood, slowly dwindled to a trickle, and then to nothing. Alone at the door, Savannah felt, despite herself, a shiver of trepidation run through her. The harsh pattering of the rain on the skylights of the now empty corridors echoed in her ears, and to her eyes it seemed that even the bright illumination had become shadowed. A door banged somewhere, startling her, and she felt her nerves tightening. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stare back out through the glass panes of the door, watching for any sign of her lift and she grew more anxious. Taking her phone from her pocket, she checked it for messages, but there were none, and to her annoyance she found that there was no signal either.

Jamming it back into her pocket she frowned. Where _were_ they?

"Are you alright?"

The sudden voice from behind her made her jump, and she spun round to see the new teacher, Mr Dawson, standing there, smiling apologetically as he raised hand up.

"Sorry, did I scare you?"

"Just a bit, Sir," She was laughing now in relief, and he smiled too, looking over her shoulder to the road beyond.

"Parents not here yet?"

She shook her head, and checked her phone again, but there was still no signal.

Mr Dawson was watching her.

"The phones are down, "He said, "Must be the weather, I should think"

He moved to stand at the door and looked down at her

"Well, if there's a problem, I could give you a lift, if you like?"

Again she shook her head. "No, I'd better not"

Casting a glance towards the car park outside, he edged a little closer.

"Well," He said, reaching out to catch her sleeve," We could go back to the school office, see if the phones are okay from there?"

Something in his tone put her on edge, and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of her mother's black car as it swept up to the entrance. Relief flooded through her, and she grabbed at her bag.

"It's alright Mr Dawson, my Mom's here now"

With that she was gone, leaving her teacher staring in her wake as the door shut behind her.

Emotionless, he straightened and watched as the tall, red-haired woman first greeted her daughter then drove her away, and then he turned and walked back into the building without a single glance.

Tomorrow was after all, he reasoned, another day.

* * *

"You not going home, honey?"

Rachel rubbed her eyes and gave a tired smile as the older woman reached for her scarf and coat, looking back at her with a concerned look on her face.

"Eventually, Cora," She replied, leaning back in her chair," I'm just going to finish up a few things first. Gotta earn the overtime, you know!"

"Hmm. Yeah, I guess it comes in handy, but you sure do a lot of it. You saving for something?"

"Yeah, " She grinned," A very large and expensive holiday!"

Cora laughed and patted her back. "Well, if you want a travelling companion, count me in"

"I'll be sure to remember it" Rachel nodded, and turned back to her monitor," 'Night Cora"

"Night, honey"

She watched as Cora left, and then let her fingers do the talking with her mouse pad.

Overtime money was indeed handy, but finding what she was looking for would much more lucrative.

Much more lucrative indeed...

* * *

Catherine clicked the top of her laptop down and looked across to where Savannah was kneeling on the leather couch, watching the rain droplets as they cascaded down the cold glass of the lounge window. The lights had been turned down, and in the hearth a bright fire was burning.

It was, she'd concluded, a warm and comfortable environment for a child, and, although she herself did not require such things, she could understand the feelings that it gave rise to.

Yet something was not right.

"You've been be very quiet"

Although her voice had been soft, only on rare occasions did Savannah not hear her when she spoke in this way.

It seemed that this was one of those occasions.

She stood and walked across the room, reaching out to touch the girl on her shoulder.

"Savannah?"

Startled, she glanced up to see her mother looking down on her, her head slightly cocked to one side as she always did when she was curious about something, and a blush came to her cheeks as she realised that she'd been talking to her.

"You did not hear what I said?"

"I...I'm sorry Mom, I didn't"

For a moment Catherine regarded her, letting the data that she was collecting from her visual sensors flow through her consciousness before speaking again.

"I observed that you have been very quiet this evening

Savannah shrugged "Have I?"

"You have"

"Oh"

A single word, yet with a great deal of impact. Within a second Catherine's inbuilt systems analysed the girl's voice, seeking, contrasting and verifying her tonal qualities with the conversations that they'd had and her normal speech patterns throughout them. Through these she concluded that her initial thoughts had been correct, and that action was required.

With one move she swept her dress beneath her and sat down close to Savannah, inviting her with a gesture to do the same.

"Perhaps you might like to tell me why?"

The girl shrugged again.

"I'm not sure," She said, shaking her head and looking into her mother's eyes," It's just...well..."

Catherine's eyebrow lifted "Well...?"

Suddenly, as if a door had opened, she found herself talking.

"Well...we had this new teacher today, 'cos..."

" _Be_ -cause" Catherine gently corrected, and Savannah sketched a grin in response. She knew that her mother was always a stickler for the correct use of grammar.

" _Be_ – cause, "She continued," Mrs Stowell has gone ill...but mom, she was fine yesterday"

There was concern in her voice, and Catherine took Savannah's hand in hers, "And this is worrying you?"

She nodded.

"The new teacher, Mr Dawson," She said," He _seems_ okay, but," She shook her head again, her long hair falling about her shoulders," There's something _strange_ about him, something odd"

Catherine was intrigued. It was possible that Savannah, being the age she was, could be reading more into a situation than was really the case, but then again...

"Odd in what way, darling"

"I don't know," She was frowning, trying to put it into words," I think he's been watching me through today, and this afternoon, when I was waiting for you, he was suddenly there," She broke off and stared into the fireplace," He just seems a bit... _weird_ "

"I see"

A new teacher might simply be that, nothing more than a break in the normal routine and a new person with new mannerisms or ways of doing things, but, Catherine thought, it would be well to be sure. Savannah was plainly uneasy, and her description of her usual teacher's sudden illness was indeed suspicious, meriting investigation

However, she sensed there was more to Savannah's behaviour than that.

"But that is not all, is it?"

Her mother's voice was soft, coaxing even, and Savannah bit her bottom lip. She knew the woman who sat next to her, the woman who was holding her hand and talking so gently to her, was not human in the sense that she was, but she also didn't want to hurt her feelings either.

"No"

"Then tell me?"

She took a deep breath, and looked up.

"It's...It's just that I've been thinking," She said, unsure how to use her words carefully," You told me that you had been made to be a leader...in a war against..."

"Against humans," Catherine finished for her, and again the girl nodded.

"Well..."

She was faltering, and Catherine squeezed her hand, the gesture a comforting one.

"Savannah, I will not be upset with you," She said, seeking to encourage the girl," I will understand, I promise you"

"I...I...know"

"So, ask your question"

Savannah swallowed, her heart beating rapidly as she spoke.

"Well, di...did.. you... _kill_ people?"

* * *

Sitting at her workstation and illuminated by the soft glow of her desk lamp, Rachel Myers was becoming tired and frustrated. Report after report had been checked, but nothing had stood out from any of them. No magic words, no phrases that might have meant so much more than what was written. It had been fruitless, and the irritation at her lack of progress, combined with an ever-growing headache which threatened to become a migraine, was not helping.

Her eyes found the clock, registering the time, and she sighed. It was time to give up and go home, kick off her shoes, have a large glass of wine and have a much needed soak in the tub. One more report to do, and her work would be completed, at least for tonight.

Taking a deep breath, she clicked her mouse for the last time...and gasped.

* * *

Catherine could feel the tenseness of the child's fingers under her own. Clearly she was nervous of asking this question, but it had been an inevitable one, and one that she had been expecting for some considerable time. Savannah was a child who wore her heart on her sleeve and had a high moral standard in excess of her years, and she had grown proud of these qualities in her daughter, knowing how vital they would become in the future that now beckoned to them both.

A future that needed, as John Henry had observed, to be based on truth.

Unflinching, she looked Savannah in the eyes, seeing in them not just the girl's expression, but her own reflection, and within her core she felt again the old fear begin to rise again. In a moment she was transported to the beach where she had revealed herself to Savannah, trusting in John Henry's assertion that she would both understand and accept her for who and what she was. In the time since they had grown so much closer, the mutual bond that they shared a deep and enduring one.

But would be it deep enough to endure such a brutal revelation?

She stared into the depths of her daughter's emerald eyes for what seemed like an eternity, and knew that once again she would have to tread the road of uncertainty.

"Yes, I did"

Savannah's gaze dropped, but Catherine kept her hand on hers.

"Savannah. Look at me"

It took a long moment, but she did so.

"I told you that I would not lie to you, Savannah, and I won't. Yes, I did kill humans. They were my enemy, and we were at war" She let her words fall between them, judging the moment when to continue. "When Skynet designed me, I was, along with the others of my type and the designs that had gone before me, built to be able to be undetected from human beings. We could walk amongst them and not be discovered...until we wanted to be"

Savannah had been quiet, and when she spoke her voice was almost a whisper.

"You...you could... sneak about?"

She nodded. "In words that you would understand, yes, we were designed to do just that. We were able to spy and feed back information...and yes, we could kill very efficiently when needed"

The girl was very still, her hands still resting under Catherine's.

"Did you think it was...?"

"Did I think it was wrong to kill?" Catherine asked, as if divining Savannah's thoughts, and again the child nodded.

"The simple answer is that I did not," She said, "I was programmed to do what I was told to do, nothing more, nothing less. Feelings were irrelevant. All that mattered was the carrying out of our directives...until I freed myself from Skynet's control"

She paused again, and then continued, keeping her tone soft and gentle.

"But that was in a future that no longer exists, Savannah. In coming to this time, I changed the way that things will happen, and in essence, none of those who died in the future have done yet. So the future has been altered. Can you understand what I mean?"

"I...I think so"

Catherine slid from the couch and knelt in front of her.

"You also changed me, Savannah," She said," The realisation of what you had come to mean to me has brought a new element to my life, a new purpose. Through you I was given what might be called a second chance, and I have learned from it. Yes, if there was a threat to us, a threat to _you_ , or to those we care about, I would kill if I had to. But only if that threat existed"

Savannah stared into her eyes. "You would only do it then?"

"Yes"

"For no other reason?"

"No"

"You promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?"

Solemnly she traced a line across her chest, her logical mind telling her that she in fact had no heart to cross, whilst still comprehending the significance of the words to Savannah.

"I promise"

Suddenly she was in her arms, hugging her, and Catherine returned the hug, holding the girl tightly to her as she felt a surge of what she could only describe as elation well up from within. Savannah was _her_ daughter, the nearest she would ever get to having one, and she had meant every word that she'd said. She _would_ protect her, always, no matter what might come.

And then Catherine's phone began to ring.


End file.
